


Life is Not Always a Gift

by sirhin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-25
Updated: 2010-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 06:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirhin/pseuds/sirhin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Towards the end of the war, Harry finds that he has nothing more left. Unfortunately, his original plan to die in the final battle didn't go through. What is he to do next? How do his loved ones cope? Seen from different POVs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Battle

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea what prompted me to start this but I did and I'm practically done with it all. Well, I suppose it's because uni starts in three days or so and I won't be able to read fanfics much (pretty depressing) so this might be called my tribute.
> 
> Originally Posted at FanFiction.Net on 27 August 2006 and was completed on 6 September 2006.

The reason why finding a job within the medical profession was incredibly controversial was that no matter what, you're required to help anyone and everyone in need of your assistance. At graduation, all graduates had to pledge absolute neutrality for all patients, among other things, the wizarding version of Hippocrates' Code. Normally, this wouldn't prove to be much of a problem but since the Second War of the wizarding world was in full swing and it didn't look like it was getting better anytime soon, it deterred many potential mediwizards and witches from pursuing the field.

Of course, there were exceptions and a certain Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley was one.

Hermione, being from a muggle household, found wizarding medicine intriguing and she felt that she had to know more. The fact that a war was coming up only helped her study harder and more rigourously in her NEWT year in order to help more Light advocates when they were injured and, hopefully, it would surpass the number saved in the Dark side. Her boyfriend at the time, Ron, was adamant about her not taking the internship at St. Mungos'. That was also when she was the optimistic Head Girl.

People changed. Everyone changed. Hermione had changed.

As war became more brutal and life resembled a miracle rather than a gift, Hermione pushed herself to her limits to see the war through – and only for that. She planned to take up the position as the new Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts after the war in order to spend more time with her friends and remaining family, as her husband of about three years had died in a battle, just a mere six months before, leaving her with a three year old toddler and pregnant with twins. In fact, that was the main reason for her change in future plans. Meanwhile, she would do her best while at the end of her second trimester on the sidelines, only coming out when the battles had ended for the time being.

This was such a time, as Hermione made her way through the blood bath with the rest of the healers clad in their crisp white, blue, and maroon uniforms, a place that was once a field full of peace and life. There were pools of blood and gore everywhere and the stench of rotting and burnt flesh permeated the air. Cries of pain and moans of the dying carried well through the impenetrable silence that was the aftermath of the carnage. The dimming light from the setting sun only helped to create a morbid picture as everything was tinted an orange-red glow.

It was all old for Hermione for she had seen too many scenes just like this. She had acquired a professional mask over the few years that she was a certified mediwitch that kept her a world away from the death and despair that greeted her. It was the only thing that kept her sane – and since this was going to be one of the last battles she would partake in before she had to stop due to her condition, she was going to do it perfectly and set an example for the healers-in-training out on the field that day.

She hefted her Healers' bag for a more firm hold as she steeled herself for the first patient for the day as she advanced towards him. The healer-in-training who was assigned to her stumbling behind, an arm momentarily pressing across his belly in order to hold in his food, a greenish tinge to his face. It was to be his first day out in the field.

It was the reason why Hermione had decided to approach the nearest black robed person sprawled out on the ground in order to make a point right from the beginning.

"Do you know why we're tending to him, Smythe?" She said, barely sparing him a glance as they neared the man enough to hear his faint moans. The student gave a quick nod. The teacher's eyes narrowed, the only feature on her face that belied what she was thinking. "I didn't hear that."

"B- because we tend to everyone, no matter their battle orientation, Healer."

Hermione gave a sharp nod as she kneeled next to the prone figure. With a swift movement, she peeled off the white mask, trademark of a Death Eater to reveal glazed, brown eyes and a face contorted in pain. He wasn't that much older than the student beside her. She hardened her face before turning towards her charge.

"Cut his robes off." Smythe gulped before doing as she ordered as Hermione turned towards the Death Eater.

"What happened?" The Healer placed two fingers at his jugular only to find a faint, sporadic, thready pulse. His breathing was shallow and there was a faint gurgle with every breath. She refrained from cursing as she realized that the man didn't have long left in this world.

"S- some g- guy cu- cur—" He suddenly stopped, his face going slack and a trickle of blood made its way out of his mouth. Hermione glanced at his chest which had several deep gashes going across it. She nodded to herself. The curse probably tore through the man's chest cavity and into his delicate lung tissue. There was also a great possibility of it damaging his heart as well. She reached over to cover the dead man's eyes as she nodded to Smythe to stand up and move on. His eyes were wide.

"He's dead." Smythe said unnecessarily. Hermione's eyes softened a bit before clasping a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes. Now let us go before more die." She replied softly. He nodded jerkily before standing.

The pair passed five more victims of the war that was too late to save before coming across someone that could be saved. Seeing that he wouldn't die anytime soon, she deemed it was time to start some hands-on instruction.

"What do you do first?"

"You take off the mask in order to establish a patient-healer relationship and to communicate better. You can also help determine his diagnosis by watching his face for unnatural pallor and—" Hermione cut him off with a small nod.

"Very good." She waited as he gingerly touched the mask in order to take it off. "It isn't going to bite, you know." She added dryly as he took his time. Smythe blushed before taking it off. Hermione looked down only to come face to face with Draco Malfoy. Her eyes widened briefly in recognition. She continued her quizzing.

"Now what?"

"Check the patient's breathing, pulse, and skin color." Smythe replied promptly before doing as he said.

"And…?" Hermione prompted him.

"He's knocked out. Possibly by a blow to the head, but most likely from a stupefy. He also probably has some minor injuries." An incline of her head was his affirmation that he was correct and a soft 'enervate' was heard next followed by a low groan. Hermione took a deep breath before looking at the Death Eater and former fellow student again.

"How do you feel?" She quietly asked. His head swiveled to hers as a soft gasp escaped his lips. With eyes narrowed, he replied in a hard voice.

"Fine." He made to get up before being pushed back by two pairs of hands. A cry of pain erupted from the irate man. Hermione's eyes swept the figure on the ground before pinpointing the problem. Malfoy's midsection was soaked in blood. Three cutting charms later had Malfoy's torso free of its confines and revealed two long cuts across his abdomen.

"What happened?"

"What's it to you? It's just a cut so you can just go, Granger." He scowled. Hermione bit her lip before anything… inappropriate came out. She succeeded for the most part.

"Malfoy, just tell me. Does anything else hurt?" Hermione said with a growl. Malfoy made to answer but before he did, Hermione realized that her student was currently staring at the two with his mouth slightly parted.

"Smythe! Get a pain relieving potion and a healing potion for me!" She snapped. Turning back towards Malfoy brought her face to face with a pair of amused grey eyes. "What?"

"Nothing." His lips quirked a bit before settling down, amazingly without his trademark sneer. "You've changed." He added softly. She made a noncommittal noise before dumping two vials of potion down his throat and sat back to watch the effects. Hermione smiled a bit in satisfaction before getting up to leave.

"I have." She said softly to him as she glanced back. Malfoy expression was surprised that she actually had an answer to what he had said. "But I'm not the only one." He laid there on the ground for a moment before he realized what she had meant.

The next couple of patients that Hermione and Smythe came across steadily became more gruesome and bloody. With Hermione's experience, she knew that it would inevitably lead to the heart of the battle. In short, it lead to the core participants of the war, namely a certain Harry Potter and the Dark Lord Voldemort. As with the previous jobs on the field, it took all of her willpower, and more, in order to not rush through her patients before she could tend to her best friend, Harry. This time, however, it didn't take her as long and when she did find him, she saw that she wasn't alone.

In fact, there was a rather large crowd. She suppressed a growl.

"Out! Out of the way!" She barked. The crowd parted for her after they recognized her as a mediwitch. When she reached the centre of everyone's attention, whom she now realized were from both sides of the war, she was shocked. In fact, it was all she could do to not fall down in a faint. Off to the left was the prone form of a skeletal thin Voldemort. Off to the right was the bloodied form of her best friend.

'Oh, so that's why these people aren't still going at it.' She thought to herself. She decided to hold off on checking Harry first since she could see he was breathing. First, she was going to do the one thing she had wished for all these years: she was going to confirm Voldemort's death.

With a skip to her step, she went up to the most feared Dark Lord of their age, kneeled down beside him, and took his pulse with an eye on his chest and a hand over his nonexistent, sorry excuse for a nose. Her heart skipped a beat but before she announced him dead, she had to make sure. She braced herself and lifted an eyelid up to look at his eyes only to see dull, blank ones; bright crimson turned into a muddy maroon. Sliding her wand from her robes and with a whispered lumos, she checked to see his papillary reaction only to find he had none. And for the first time in six months, she smiled.

Slowly, she got to her feet and looked at everyone's expectant faces still staring at her, some of which were healers themselves. She opened her mouth and she swore that she could feel them holding their breaths and shouted, "Voldemort's dead!"

There was a moment of shocked silence before many in the crowd cheered and whooped, stomping their feet and making as much noise as they could. Some of the Death Eaters even had smiles upon their faces. Hermione turned around to Harry to tend to him, her most highly anticipated patient.

"Smythe!" She called. The noise suddenly came to a halt as the health of their hero and saviour came to the front of their minds. Hermione spotted an old schoolmate, Dean Thomas, crossing his fingers and she rolled her eyes. The crowd parted for Smythe and two other healers to come through.

As the four adults reached the young man, they realized several things: Harry was breathing, Harry was bleeding, and Harry was dying. The most important thing, however, was the fact that there still was a chance of him being saved. His face was smeared with dirt and dried blood and his infamous scar blazed red on his forehead. His battle robes were filthy and torn with one hand deep inside its folds. Hermione swallowed hard as she got to work.

"Mr. Potter?" Came a tentative voice next to her, a healer named Elyssa Marigold. Harry's eyes appeared. They were dull with pain and something else. Something Hermione couldn't put a finger on – or maybe it was that she didn't want to. Harry's hand that was tangled within his robes appeared to clench as he recognize the people around him. He closed his eyes as clenched his jaw, the muscles working furiously.

"Please." He rasped. "Please." Hermione stopped from furthering her visual assessment of him. The other healers quit cleaning the blood from his face to help assess any possible injuries.

"Please what, Harry? What do you want?" She asked him, almost pleading. His eyelids parted to reveal jaded, green eyes. At that, the other healers hurried to cut his robes away from his body.

"Don't." He softly whispered in a hoarse voice. Hermione was nearly panicking now.

"Don't what, Harry?"

"Don't…" Harry trailed off as he focused on someone behind her, his face unreadable. Hermione spun on her heels to see who it was that prevented her from knowing what it was that Harry wanted. To say she was surprised was an understatement.

There, before her in Death Eater regalia minus the mask, was Draco Malfoy. The person that seemed to have a gift with being there when he wasn't wanted. Like now.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He was still staring intensely at Harry like there was no tomorrow. She stood up so he would have to meet her face to face. "I repeat: What do you—" His face snapped to hers.

"Nothing. But Harry wants something." Hermione growled at the use of Harry's first name and, in part, her frustrated self of not knowing something when it was so close.

"I know that Malfoy! He was trying to tell me when you got here!" She spun around to ask Harry again who was currently doing his best to prevent the healers from cutting apart his robes any further. It was a rather amusing scene to come to, if somewhat inappropriate and morbidly so.

"Harry, they're just trying to help you." She said, trying to placate him.

"No." He grunted. She sighed.

"No what, Harry?"

"No." He said again. He raised his eyes to hers and she saw that same unknown emotion that she just couldn't place a finger on.

"I swear! If there was a wall here, I could just bang my head against it!" Before she could continue her tirade, a shout interrupted her.

"Don't you get it? He doesn't want any help! He wants you to let him be!" Malfoy's hair was disheveled as if he had just run his fingers through it in pure frustration. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in puzzled thought.

"But why? His injuries aren't that bad!"

"For being the so-called brightest witch in our class, you certainly don't act it!" He took a deep breath and finished calmly, face free from all emotions. "Just let him go." Hermione's eyes widened with realization. As everyone else around her caught on, she turned slowly to Harry. The healers around him had stilled their motions at the proclamation by Malfoy.

"Harry? Is that true?" Harry's eyes were sad.

"Bye 'Mione." He looked past her and gave a faint nod. "Draco." Hermione's tongue got caught in her throat.

"Bye? What do you mean bye!" Hermione practically screeched. She mouth shut as he raised a hand to his mouth, a small pill between his forefinger and thumb. As he dropped the poison in, his eyes asked for forgiveness. In the brief moments before his eyes closed forever, she faintly heard him say something but the only things she caught were the words "journal", "floorboard", "sorry", and "bye".

Then she suddenly realized what that look was in Harry's eyes. It was a look of despair and pain rolled up all into one. It was the look of someone who no longer wanted to live.

Harry, the saviour of the wizarding world and her best friend, no longer wanted to live. It finally hit her that he had succeeded and she collapsed to the floor, her frame wracked with sobs. The only thing running through her mind was, "Why Harry? Why?"


	2. On the Road to Recovery

It was the twelfth of March 2003, five months after the death of Hermione's last remaining best friend and the hero of the Second War. It was also the day that she finally found Harry's journal. The journal was located under the floorboards in Harry's room in Godric's Hollow, his parents' home which he renovated immediately after he visited the place shortly after his graduation. He moved in a month after that and had lived there until his death.

It was also where Hermione had lived since Harry had given the house to her in his will.

She choked back a sob and clutched the worn, leather-bound book tightly to her chest. A feeble hoot from an old snowy owl penetrated her thoughts and brought her back to the present. Hermione gave a weak smile to the owl. Harry's owl.

"You miss him too, don't you, Hedwig?" Another hoot, this one with a mournful tone to it, was given. Hermione sighed, got up from the floor and sat on the bed. She hadn't been to his room since he had died. After many failed attempts to even turn the door knob, she had stopped and avoided from looking at the door at all. She just felt as if she failed Harry in the deepest sense possible and it hurt her to see what happened as a result. In the end, after her frantic search for Harry's journal lead to nowhere, she decided she had to suck it up and go in; it was the only place she hadn't tried yet. With one trembling hand, she opened the book to a random page in the middle that was covered in Harry's untidy scrawl.

_07 July 1995  
My Room, Privet Drive_

I can't go to sleep yet. No, I don't want to go to sleep. I can't take the nightmares anymore. I already know it's all my fault but it seems everything just has to remind me! Even when I'm asleep. Being here at the Dursley's doesn't help much either. What I would give for Ron to rescue me like in second year or even Hermione to lecture me about the reaction between… I don't know, powdered boomslang skin and lacewing flies. I would even take her going off about something we probably wouldn't even need to know until seventh year! At least it would take my mind off of Sirius…

Hermione stopped there and angrily wiped her tears from her eyes. She already had five months of grieving. She just had to get over it! She skipped a couple more pages.

_26 December 1997  
My Bed, Gryffindor Tower_

I always wonder if I had done some unspeakable thing my past life. Maybe I killed countless babies and I ate them or something. Maybe not. That is kind of gross. Well, I got all of my presents – even from Voldemort. I should be getting used to things like this but I guess a part of me is still the same Harry from back in first year.

Voldemort's present to me was the death of the Dursley's. Truthfully, I'm glad they're gone. Then I think that even if that was the truth, they did still raise me, if that's what you call raising a kid. But then again, they weren't even gone in the nice way. Perhaps they already got their due. Their deaths were pretty messy. Voldemort probably thought we were pretty close in order to actually kill them like that. From what I heard, He gutted Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia alive with a blunt knife and made Dudley watch. Then they dissected Dudley, again, alive, with the same knives used on his parents, still coated in their gore. They're sort of repetitive like that, I guess. A part of me wonders if I actually seem to like Malfoy, that Voldemort could kill him for me, but I guess not. Our rivalry is pretty legendary.

Hm... I suppose I am somewhat used to this if I can see the good side to it. Or maybe I'm still in shock, or at least I'd think that's what Hermione would say. I know that's what Madam Pomfrey would say, because, well, that's what she did say to me…

Hermione snorted at that. She flipped some more pages until a word jumped out at her: snog. With a curious glint in her eyes, she stopped there.

_16 October 1999  
My Room, Godric's Hollow_

Never in a million years would I – nor anyone in my graduating class – believe it. Actually, even I don't believe it! I was leaving Auror Headquarters today when I ran into Draco Malfoy. I'm sure you would go on about how I kicked his arse. Well, that was my first move – but then he stopped me.

Trust me, it was a really good way to stop someone from hexing the shite out of you so don't go off telling everyone on how I've lost my touch. He glided forward, because that's what aristocratic, pureblooded Slytherins do – or at least Malfoy – and knocked my wand arm aside, grabbed my left arm and dragged me off into an alley. Then he proceeded to snog me senseless. No, I didn't say 'he proceeded to beat me senseless'. I did say that he proceeded to snog me senseless.

No, I am not joking. Why would I joke to a book anyway? It's not like you have any priceless facial expressions. Plus, I still have a bit of his scent on me. A sort of mix of sandalwood, jasmine, and vanilla. It's a pretty nice smell, actually.

After that, I'm not sure what happened. I was still fairly shocked at what Draco – I mean Malfoy – suddenly did. The only thing I'm sure about is that I agreed to meet with him tomorrow night at the Hogs Head in Hogsmeade. The only reason why I know that is because I received an owl from him just five minutes ago confirming our… date. I honestly don't know what's wrong with me.

Maybe I was slipped something in my drink today at lunch.

By that time, Hermione's mouth was wide open in shock. Draco? And Harry? Those were the two most different people in the school! And Draco started it? And why was it that she didn't know this? She hurriedly turned to the next entry.

_27 October 1999  
Draco's Room, Malfoy Manor_

I guess no one slipped something into my drink the other day. In fact, I was perfectly sane. And yes, you're sane as well. I am at Malfoy Manor in Draco's Room. I suppose it's a good thing that Draco's dad is in Azkaban yet again. His mum is somewhere in San Tropez, wherever that is, on vacation.

His house, no, it's not fit to be called a house. It's a bloody mansion for Merlin's sake! Well, his home is probably big enough to house all the students and staff of Hogwarts! His room is absolutely beautiful and his bed is about the size of my room at the Dursley's.

Anyway, you're probably going on about how fast we're moving when we have nowhere to move to since we were nothing to begin with. You're wrong. Draco and I got together two days ago and, amazingly, I like him. A lot. I never knew I was a poof, but there you have it. He's actually rather charming once you chip away at his exterior. Of course, I wasn't that acceptable of this. At first, I thought Draco was just having me on and was going to turn me in to Voldemort at the first chance that he got. My theory was helped along by the fact that Draco already took the Dark Mark later in his seventh year, which he showed to me. After he did that, I practically forced him to take Veritaserum which he actually willingly took.

I found some pretty interesting things. I suppose you could say that my Slytherin side got through. I milked it for all it was worth, basically. Of course my Gryffindor side came out dominant, making me feel incredibly guilty at how I took advantage of Draco. In the end, I realized that Draco wasn't playing me as a fool and that he really had feelings for me other than intense hatred. Actually, the intense hatred for me died off towards the end of last year when the Dursley's died. I guess some more good came off of their deaths after all. It was about time I got paid back.

Yeah, that was pretty much it. Both Draco and I decided to keep it quiet for now since our friends wouldn't exactly welcome this idea with open arms. Instead, they'll have a mind open for throwing us in the mental ward next to Lockhart and killing the other, first chance they get. In battle, we're going to try to stay far apart as we can.

A part of me does wonder if this relationship is worth all the trouble but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try it out. Plus, you never know, and I have so little to live for now anyway.

Hermione gave a watery smile as she continued on through the rest of the journal.

_1 March 2000  
Dining Room, Grimmauld Place_

Remus is dead. Tonks is dead. Ginny is dead. Mrs. Weasley is dead. The only thing that could make it worse happened: it was my fault again.

It all started when Remus was taken prisoner at the last battle. A rescue mission was planned for him. What we didn't figure on happening was that the Death Eaters wouldn't take their time. What do you know, the one time they actually do something different had to be now. I suppose I can take out my previous comment about them being repetitive.

Remus ended up getting tortured by MacNair, the same guy that was set to be Buckbeak's executioner back in third year. He has a way with torturing magical creatures because he did real good with Remus. Something about a silver knife. Frankly, I don't want to know. Also, I sort of lost it. Anything that was breakable broke and I'm not going to say I'm sorry. I just wish MacNair was here so I could give him a taste of what he deserves.

THAT BASTARD KILLED REMUS!

I knew I should have never gotten close to anyone.

I will never get close to anyone again.

Hermione stared at the words, some of which were smeared by what looked like tears. She remembered Harry becoming real private during that time but never thought much about it besides him grieving. She didn't know that was what he decided on doing in order to protect himself from getting hurt again. He had it hidden real well since during the talk that she had with him, he seemed relatively normal, given the circumstances.

She could have hit herself. This was probably the first step to his final decision of just giving up.

_22 November 2000  
My Room, Godric's Hollow_

I just got back from Ron and Hermione's place. Their son, Charles Arthur Weasley's, second birthday was today. He really is adorable with his brown hair and big blue eyes. We have yet to see who he takes after more but I'm willing to bet that he'll get Hermione's brains and Ron's obsession for all things Quidditch. He's quite the little tyke. He has this way of looking up at me, holding his arms out and saying "Unco Hawwy".

Then Ron has to ruin it by pulling me off to the side before I left and questioning me to see if I was all right. He said that I wasn't coming over enough and that when I did, it was always too short of a visit. It hurts me to do that but it's for their own good. Maybe it will keep them from dying sooner.

As if that could get any worse, Draco and I just had another spat on the same subject. It is only for the best that this is happening. I love him and I don't want him to get hurt because of me.

It's all for their own good.

Hermione glared at those words. The only thing his death did was have the entire wizarding world mourn his death for no reason whatsoever. His death was not the answer!

_11 August 2001  
Sitting Room, Malfoy Manor_

Draco found you yesterday and being the Slytherin he is, he told me to come here under the pretense of merely getting together. Instead, I find this incredibly emotional Draco who is pleading with me to change my mind. After several hours, I have decided to open up a little more after he told me I looked like the living dead and there was no way that a Malfoy was going to date a guy who looked dead.

Trust him to say something like that. –

A knock sounded at the door of the room, interrupting her reading.

"Yes?" A small, brown head poked into the room.

"The twins are up." He paused, as if considering if he should ask something. He gave a small little nod to himself before looking up at her again. "Mummy?"

"Yes?" She asked again.

"Why did Uncle Harry go away?" Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She had waited for Charlie to ask her something about Harry's disappearance but after so long without a question, she had forgotten.

"I don't know, dear." Hermione replied honestly.

"Oh. I miss him."

"So do I."

"What are you doing?"

"Oh! I'm reading this… journal." Charlie's eyes lit up.

"Who wrote it?"

"Harry." Suddenly, a pair of loud cries came through the door. Charlie looked annoyed at the interruption. "I'll tell you what. After we feed the two, we can all sit together and read the rest together, all right?" Charlie's face split into a grin.

"Will it tell us why Uncle Harry had to go away?"

"I hope so, dear. I hope so." Hermione said softly before leaving with her first-born to tend to her two-month old babies, the journal tucked securely under an arm.

Fifteen minutes later found Hermione and Charlie in the Nursery trying to find a comfortable position on the floor.

"So what do you want to read about first?" Charlie appeared to think about his answer really seriously as he had the same furrowed brow that his mum did when she was in deep thought.

"I want to know why Uncle Harry left." Hermione paused before she nodded her consent and opened the book to where she believed she left off on. Instead she found another thing that reminded her of what else was lost due to the war. As she read to herself, she gave an edited version to her son.

_27 May 2002  
My Room, Godric's Hollow_

I told Ron not to go but he didn't listen. Now he's dead from the Avada Kedavra. Mr. Weasley is also dead, trying to avenge his son's death.

All of these lives lost all because of me – not directly though. Draco has finally hammered that into me and after many months of it, I can recite each and every one of his 'It Is Not Your Fault' speeches. However, it was me that earned the wizarding world fourteen years of peace and it was me when I had my blood help with Voldemort's ritual to come back during the TriWizard Tournament. That leads to my thoughts on Cedric's death but I have already said much on that so I'll refrain from doing so now.

I just don't know what else is out there. The Light side has suffered a major blow today other than the losses of the two Weasleys, we also lost our mentor and leader: Albus Dumbledore. He may have been manipulative but he still watched out for me, for the most part.

The only people I have left now are Draco, Hermione, Charlie, and Hedwig and they could all die as long as this war goes on. There's nothing left to live for here. There's nothing left for me.

I shall tell Draco of my decision tomorrow. I know he'll understand.

Hermione willed her voice not to waver much as they got to the source of Harry's decision. Charlie was sitting quietly at her side, hands clasped together.

"More Mummy. More. I need to know why. I need to know what happened" He implored.

Hermione wholeheartedly agreed.

_14 June 2002  
Draco's Study, Malfoy Manor_

Draco and I along with my solicitor just went over my will. It will be released to the Gringotts goblins later on today. Draco really does do as he says. Slytherins may not have Gryffindor honour and valour but they sure keep their promises.

He seems to accept it much more easily than I expected. I was right, he did understand. He said that he would probably do the same if he didn't have the task of carrying the Malfoy line. I must admit that I was a little sad that I wouldn't have little Potters running around but that's quite all right, and I told him too. Then Draco, the nerve of him, did his little 'fake innocence' routine and 'kindly' told me that the Malfoy heir would also be the Potter heir.

That was when he lost me. Then, he slowly explained the new fangled wizarding technology of cauldron babies, the equivalent of test tube babies in the muggle world. It was ideal for same sex couples or for couples unable to conceive. Needless to say, I was incredibly excited.

That was when I had second thoughts. What if Draco needed help with the kids? I wanted to be there too, after all, they were half mine. After voicing some of my worries aloud, Draco calmly interrupted by telling me that we would have no more than three, if that, for he "had no urge to have a brood of offspring resembling the blood-traitoring Weasels". He then said that whatever I decided in the end was fine with him and that our kids would still know me for he could have a portrait made of me and do a little charm that drenched the picture with my essence so that when people held conversations with my portrait, my portrait-self would reply as I would if I were still alive. That way, my kids would still know me mentally growing up, if not physically. Or something like that. I didn't quite get much of the technicalities when he was in his explaining mode, gesturing everywhere.

I had a lot of thinking to do then but I finally decided that I would go through with the original plan. I would absolutely love my kids but I wouldn't want them to have me as their dad. I'm not a very good role model after all those years of not having a childhood and such. Plus who would want a parent who had so many shadows upon their life? Draco would be much better. Plus, the prat told me he would make sure that our kids would act as pureblooded as they come and none of my plebian ways could affect all his hard work.

He was joking, in his own way. I heard him crying later on that night. In his hands were tufts of my hair that we had chopped off to use for our kids. I think he got extra on purpose.

Maybe I can come back as a spirit of some sort and keep in touch with my kids and Draco. This would be one time that I would actually willingly use my fame to my advantage. Of course, this would also be the time that my fame wouldn't matter.

I will certainly miss who I'll leave behind.

By the time mother and son had finished, they were sniffling rather loudly, but they kept going. They only had a couple more pages to go.

_9 October 2002  
My Room, Godric's Hollow_

Dear Hermione,

I knew that you would finally find this so I decided to leave this for you. Think of it as my little goodbye. The last parting of words, if you will.

First off, I really am sorry for leaving you like that. It must have really hit you hard once you realized what I had planned and it must have hurt even more once you found out I had it planned months in advance. That is the truth though. I'm sorry for everything.

I won't get into all the technicalities of what I'm apologizing for since you should already have an idea after reading this, and if you haven't read the entire thing yet, I have no doubt that you will. You might be thinking what in the world was I thinking – or why wasn't I thinking – doing this and leaving you and Charlie, not to mention Draco and my future kids, behind.

In truth, there were many little things and it all added into this gigantic ball of problems and worries and things that just overshadowed my life and my future.

I guess I did take the easy way out. I started a Gryffindor and ended a Slytherin, with my sense of self-preservation and all. Kind of ironic, isn't it, on so many levels?

Anyway, I hope you make Godric's Hollow your home and tell Charlie that I miss him. I know this little letter was fairly inadequate but I'm afraid I can't do any more. If you don't understand after reading this entire thing, then you'll never understand after reading a mere letter, though I know you'll try. It doesn't matter if you meld your brain in with Charlie's or not. I'm still sure that you'll try that as well. Oh yes, and the twins should be out and about by now, right? Send my love to them as well.

Bye Hermione and good luck. Look out for my kids will you? I'll look after yours wherever it is I'll be because I, Harry Potter, am incapable of truly dying. Where do you think they got that blasted title for me from? They had a little help from the little incident when I was one, but that wasn't all of it.

A small sketch of a smiley face sticking its tongue out was drawn here. Hermione touched it and smiled.

Oh, and give this to Draco when you're finished. I've left him a letter as well.

I hope you'll forgive me in time.

Love,

Harry Potter

Hermione stifled a sob, but it did nothing for the tears streaming down her face. Charlie's face closely resembled his mother's but he quickly stopped and wiped his tears off on his sleeve. He turned to face her.

"I understand now, Mum." Without another word, he left the room. Hermione marveled at the innocence, and yet the sense of all-knowing that he seemed to possess at such a young age. She closed the book and smoothed the cover. Wiping her face dry, she stood next to the crib and watched her two babies snuggled underneath all the blankets.

"I forgive you Harry." She whispered as her eyes gazed upon her twins, Harry and Lila. She turned around to where she was before, flipped to the first page and read the journal once more.

She just had to understand!


	3. The Journal

The clank of glass against wood sounded through the wood-furnished room, long, elegant fingers clenched around it, knuckles white. Suddenly, the hand left the glass of scotch and combed through fine, pale hair.

"Why, Harry? Why?" Draco moaned to the room. He pressed his hands against his eyes in an attempt to stop the flow of tears. As his hands left, they revealed bloodshot, shadowed eyes and deathly pale skin. He leaned back into his regal, leather-clad chair, long arms trailing lifelessly at his sides, eyes closed tight. A few tears escaped.

Slowly, he lifted one arm and randomly swept it across his immaculate table, as if a blind person seeking a place to go from there. When his fingers found the corners of a small wooden box laid with gold filigree, he picked it up and held it close to his chest. A half moan, half sob emitted from him and his fingers stroked the box almost lovingly. He opened his eyes and stared dully at the box. Then he undid the golden clasp to the lid and carefully lifted it open only to revealed several locks of dark hair.

He stuck two fingers into the soft contents and slowly petted them.

"Harry." He whispered brokenly. "My Harry."

Draco curled up into the back of the seat around the box which he closed again and slipped off into a much-needed sleep.

"Master Draco, sir! Master Draco!"

Draco groaned. What infernal being was rousing him from his sleep? He took a peek out from under his lashes only to meet two bulbous brown eyes of a house elf. One of his house elves named Mickie, to be exact.

"What is it, Mickie?" he managed after suppressing a huge yawn.

"A Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley is waiting in the floo room. She just arrived here and asked for you." The little elf paused here before delving on in a softer voice, though no less squeaky. "She said it was about Master Draco's Master Harry, Master Draco, sir." It was known throughout the Malfoy Manor's elves that their Master loved the Boy-Who-Lived. It was also well known that you should not mention the name in his presence unless it was absolutely necessary, unless you were suicidal.

Draco's eyes, which had been burning with disgust at a mudblood within his home, were closed in pain as he was revealed the reason behind Granger's visit. After a moment of tense silence, on the elf's part, he opened them again. His face was blank of all emotions.

"Bring her into the parlour. I shall be there momentarily." He replied.

"Yes, Master Draco! Right away, sir!" The elf bowed and then left the room with a loud crack.

The young aristocrat gave out a loud sigh and sat back in his chair, eyes staring at something only he could see. His hands were still clasped tightly around the wooden box. Suddenly his eyes lost the blank look and he caressed the box once more before placing it gently on his highly polished desk. He slowly raised himself out of his chair and paused once with his arms braced against the ornate armrests before standing completely. He strode to the door, squared his shoulders, and swept through the doorway on the way to the parlour.

Four minutes later found Draco entering through a pair of engraved glass doors into a brightly lit room, thanks to several large windows that looked out into the wide expanse of the front yard. It showed a scene from the front cover of a Best Vacation Sites in the World pamphlet. The grass appeared to have been mowed with the help of a ruler. The lake was crystal clear and there were impeccable rose bushes lining the front of the house. Various birds rested on hedges and trees, singing a cheerful tune, and little fairies made a home in the perfectly trimmed shrubbery.

It was a complete opposite from how the occupants of the room were feeling.

Settling himself in a white wicker chair beside a window, Draco motioned for Granger to sit in the remaining chair. While Granger got herself settled, Draco studied her. She looked better than the last time he saw her. Her hair looked well-taken care of and her face has a slight pink tint to the cheeks. Her eyes, by no way conveying the message that she was 'all right', held a small light within them that was absent before. Draco cleared his throat.

"Granger." He greeted her with a slight nod of his head. "To what may I owe the pleasure of having you… here?" To his surprise, she answered with a small smile.

"Harry." She said simply.

"Harry?" Draco nearly choked on the word. Even though he knew that the young woman before him was here because of his love, it still stopped his heart for a moment when the name was uttered. Granger's smile widened a fraction.

"Harry." Draco stared at her for a moment before opening his mouth to respond. After several tries, he succeeded.

"What about… Harry?" Hermione took a deep breath before speaking.

"Do you remember what he said right before he…" She stopped and her gaze dropped to the ground before looking up again. "Do you remember his last words?" Draco blinked.

"I remembered that he said something but I did not catch what it was that he was trying to say."

"Oh. Well, I couldn't hear everything, either, but I did catch some words…" She trailed off.

"Well?" Draco prodded her when she showed no sign of continuing. Plus, he was rather curious as well. Granger gave a little jump.

"Oh! Well, I caught four words. Two of them were what you would expect someone in his… position to say, while the other two words were rather peculiar." Draco made an impatient noise in his throat so Granger quickly got to the point. "He said 'journal', 'floorboard', 'sorry', and 'bye'." Draco froze when he heard 'journal'. Granger noticed. "What is it?"

"He- Before he left, he said something about a journal and that he'd have something for me in there…" He trailed off, his eyes focused over her shoulder. His eyes snapped back to her face almost immediately afterwards. "You have the journal, don't you?" His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed in anticipation. Granger gave a small nod before reaching into her robes and pulling something rectangular out. Draco reached out through the short distance with trembling fingers. As he touched the leather, he felt better than he had in a long time. His hands caressed the book as he did with the wooden box and he held it up to his face as he closed his eyes in a flutter of lashes. The book still smelled faintly of Harry.

He gave the first smile in over five months. He looked at the girl before him that gave him something so incredibly precious.

"Thank you, Hermione." The newly deemed Hermione's eyes widened in understanding as he called her by her first name for the first time since they met. She let loose a genuine smile.

"You're welcome." She appeared sad for a moment. "Harry wanted you to have it. He left a message for you in the back." Draco nodded that he heard.

"Would you like some tea?" Hermione's face was priceless. He smirked.

"Umm… I would love to later but I have an engagement to go to. Maybe some other time?" Her face still held a red tint.

"Of course. Let me walk you out." Draco stood up and lead Hermione by the elbow out the door.

Long after the door closed, Draco still stood in the foyer, gazing through the windows neighboring the front doors. Never did he think that something like being friendly to Granger – no, Hermione – would come out of this, but it did. As he turned around to go back to his study to peruse the worn book, he remembered what Harry had told him once and he had a brief flashback.

"Just because you don't think it'll happen doesn't mean it won't." Harry gave his adorable lopsided smile. "After all, I'm with you."

Draco gave a small chuckle at the memory. Unbeknownst to him, he had a delighted audience watching their beloved Master start the journey back from his grief.

As Draco sat back in his chair, he opened the book to the back before he stopped and flipped to the first entry. He had time and he somehow knew that what he had been doing the past months was something Harry would not have liked. After all, he did help Harry along with his idea, even though it tore him apart. Even so, he stilled loved the raven-haired man and he would do his best to move on. He still had a life ahead of his with his – their – kids.

By the time he started to read, a wide grin had made a home on his face.

_9 October 2002  
My Room, Godric's Hollow_

My Dear Dragon,

There is not much I can say to you that you don't already know so I'll get to the point. I only have a short message for you but it may mean a whole lot. Who knows?

No, wait. I know it will mean a whole lot.

I have found a way to somehow keep in touch with you and our kids. I actually took the idea from Tom Riddle and how he placed his sixteen-year-old self in a journal, so it had all of his sixteen years of memories. Tom was a rather brilliant man. It's such a shame he had to choose the route of Voldemort in the end. He did have one use though: you now can communicate with me.

Just go into your study and on the bookshelf on the right side, there is an untitled green and gold book on the second shelf from the bottom. That's it. Just write into it and I will answer with my messy scrawl and in my plebian ways!

Remember, I love you forever and always.

Love,

Harry


	4. I Did Not Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was somewhat difficult to write and differentiate but in addition to context clues, here's the key:
> 
> Harry &amp; Matthew = italicised   
> Damion = bolded

A large, heavy, white door opened. Through the small opening, the crack of light illuminated a figure sprawled out in bed, with mussed, platinum hair. A soft snore permeated the air and giggles could be heard at the door.

With a soft squeak, the door opened completely, showing the silhouettes of two boys, the taller one was holding the shorter one's hand. Holding a finger to his lips and releasing a small 'shhhh', he lead his little brother into the elegantly furnished room. Right at the last moment, the brothers jumped onto the bed – and onto the sleeping, or formerly sleeping, figure – they screamed "Up! Up! Daddy!"

"Not now, boys." The figure on the bed let out a huge groan and turned over on his side and pulled the comforter over his head. The taller boy frowned.

"But Father…" He whinged. "It's my birthday! You promised to get up early today! It's not even a regular birthday! It's my eleventh birthday! I'll be getting my Hogwarts' letter today!"

An exasperated sigh was heard from underneath the covers. After a moment, the figure moved with a rustle, then spoke. "What time is it?" The boys grinned.

"Five!" They chorused in unison. Their father threw off the comforter in order to glare at his two sons.

"Five? Five! No one in their right mind wakes up at five in the bloody morning!"

"Language, Father!" By now, the two boys were shaking with suppressed laughter. The man narrowed his eyes, a mischievous light within them.

"Really?" He purred. "You have to the count of five before I kick you out, lock this door, and put up the strongest silencing charm that even Merlin would have trouble taking off!"

The boys quickly glanced at their father's dangerous glare, then they swept out of there with a "Remember! We have company in five hours!" The man fell down on his back with a huff.

"Bloody kids."

After five minutes of staring blankly at the high vaulted ceiling, the man came to the conclusion that he could not sleep. He got up and out of bed and went over to a desk and he looked out through the window. After a moment, a small smile graced his features and he reached into the drawer of the table to pull out a thin green and gold book. Momentarily caressing the cover, he sat down in the cushioned chair and took out a bottle of ink and a quill. Opening the book to the third page, he dipped his quill into the ink and started to write in a beautiful script.

_Hello, Harry. The kids just woke me up. Where did they get the idea to jump on the bed like that? It's particularly uncouth of someone of their status!_

A messy scrawl appeared under the newly written words.

_Draco! And what exactly is their status? They're kids. Plus, I think it's absolutely adorable!_

Adorable! Being stuck in a book sure does addle one's brains! You're only saying that because you were rudely roused from a rather enjoyable dream with a rather handsome, raven-haired man by two absolute menaces! And it is the status befitting the sons of a Malfoy and a Potter, of course – not to mention the saviour of the wizarding world.

You're just jealous, Draco.

Draco snorted.

_I can honestly say that I am far from being jealous about being stuck in a mere book._

There was a small pause before the messy writing appeared again.

_I wish I was there._

Draco's eyes widened in disbelief. He leaned back over the book to write furiously back to his deceased husband in all but name.

_You wish you were here? I wish you were here! I have been wishing you were here! But no! The idiotic Gryffindor has to go running straight into some hare-brained –_

DRACO! I get it. I know.

The young man buried his face in his hands before looking at the writing again. The ink was still glistening on the pages. He picked up his quill again.

_I just wish you were still here, you know? You could be here in person and speak with Matthew and Damion. It's Matthew's birthday today as well! There are so many things that you're missing out of and the boys are missing out of._

I'm sorry, but there's nothing to be done now.

Damn right there's nothing to be done!

Draco stopped writing as he heard a high-pitched shriek getting steadily louder as it came closer to his room. He sighed, but there was a smile lingering across his lips.

_The boys are coming. It seems as if Damion is being terrified by his brother._

I can just picture it… But Draco, you know I am sorry, right?

Yes.

I love you.

I know. Me too.

Just then, the door burst open and two boys, one with raven locks and the other with blonde locks barged into the room. Draco shook his head slightly at his sons' antics and turned towards them in his chair. He raised an elegant eyebrow.

"Matthew?" The blonde-haired boy just blushed and turned his gaze to the floor. Draco turned to his younger son. "Damion?" Damion just shook his head and grinned. Draco groaned inwardly but before he could press any further, Matthew beat him.

"Father? Were you writing to Dad?" Draco whipped his head around to realize the he left the journal open. He gave a sad smile.

"Yes" He replied simply. Both Damion and Matthew looked sad for a while but perked up.

"Can we speak to him?"

Draco leaned back in his chair and surveyed his sons. Both of them knew the entire story of their Dad and his death. They also knew about the journal. The only thing they hadn't done was write to their Dad. He looked over to Matthew. With his blonde hair and brilliant green eyes, he was the inversion of his little brother of two years, who had black hair and slate grey eyes. Interestingly, he also seemed to have more of Harry's shy personality and dislike of being at the centre of attention. Damion had a personality more akin to Draco's. The two brothers both inherited their Father's pale skin and fine, aristocratic features, though. Making a final decision, Draco made to reply.

"Yes, you both may speak to him." Draco was incredibly glad of his decision with brilliant smiles lit Matthew and Damion's faces. They looked expectantly at him and he gave a small nod of his head. He turned around to hastily write 'your sons are going to speak to you now' and handed it over to Matthew.

Right after the two boys received the small book, they raced out of the room.

"Don't lose it!" Draco shouted behind them, hoping with all of his being that no harm would come to his precious little book.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Matthew rushed through the hallways in Malfoy Manor with his brother following close at his heels. He came to a halt at a pair of double glass doors that opened into a beautiful indoor garden that was simply breathtaking. There was a little waterfall in the corner and various vegetation lined the tiled pathways the traveled through the garden, only to end up in the same place.

A beautifully engraved marble headstone rested in the centre of the clearing and it was surrounded by beautiful lilies and orchids. The brothers came to a stop in front of the serene site and each of them sat down next to the large block of stone. Leaning over the book, they both took out a quill and inkpot and reverently stroked the book before writing.

_Daddy! I'm Matthew_ **and I'm Damion!**

_Hello my sons! I have been waiting a long while for this! How have you two been? Did Draco finally let you guys write?_

I'm good! My birthday's today. I'm going to turn 11! Are you going to be there?

Yes, as long as someone brings me there!

**I'll do it! I'll do it!**

_Damion! Once is enough!_

**Well, I'm sorry Matthew but I'm just so excited!**

Indeed he was. As this was going on, Damion was bouncing rather excitedly.

_Oh you two! Anyway, what about you, Damion? How are you?_

Damion appeared to be thinking.

**I miss you. But I'm doing good. I will miss Matthew when he goes to Hogwarts.**

There was a moment of silence where sniffles could be heard from both Matthew and Damion.

_I miss both of you as well, and don't forget about Draco! Don't worry, Damion. You only have two more years until you get your letter as well! Think of it this way: you won't have homework for another two years!_

The two boys snorted softly, their eyes glistening with a fine sheen of tears.

**Yeah, I suppose so, Dad.**

_Dad. Do you think we could ever see you?_

Of course! I believe there are many pictures around the house of me!

I meant in person.

There was a pause.

_Matthew. Damion. I will always be with you, it doesn't matter where you are. You both remember that, okay? I'll even be at the party tonight!_

**What about the little family-only party?**

_That one as well._

Oh, OK. We still miss you though.

You can always speak to me here. I know it may not be as good as the real thing but it's pretty good.

**All right, Dad.**

_Now go on. I believe Draco's getting frantic looking all over for you two._

The boys grinned at one another.

_Yes, Dad!_

And don't wake him up like you did today, either.

This was met with full-blown laughter.

_We'll try. Bye!_

**Bye, Dad!**

Damion and Matthew walked out of the room looking for their father to give back the book, never noticing the figure crouched next to the doorway. Silky, platinum hair shined in the light as the tall man reached the headstone. As he did every morning, he read the inscription upon the marble and stroked the stone.

It was his way of reminding himself that he should move on. And he did.

"See you tomorrow, Harry."

Draco paused before he left the clearing when he felt the shiver that runs up one's back when someone's staring at them. He swiftly turned around only to meet with the face of the headstone, twinkling in the sunlight. He sighed and shook his head as he left to go see what mischief his sons had been up to while looking for him.

If he looked back, he would have seen a faint outline of a man with unruly hair sitting on the headstone with a smile on his face. As he faded out, he gave a little wave to the steadily disappearing back of his Draco.

"See you at the party, Draco. Tell the kids I miss them." The spirit smirked. "Told you I didn't die."

\----------

_In Loving Memory_

Of

Harry James Potter

(July 31, 1980 – Oct. 12, 2002)

'Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.  
I am not there. I did not die.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote I placed on Harry's gravestone is from a poem written by a Melinda Sue Pacho titled "I Did Not Die."
> 
> Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.  
> I am not there; I do not sleep.  
> I am a thousand winds that blow.  
> I am the diamond glints on snow.  
> I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
> I am the gentle autumn's rain.  
> When you awaken in the morning's hush  
> I am the swift uplifting rush  
> Of quiet birds in circled flight.  
> I am the soft stars that shine at night.  
> Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.  
> I am not there. I did not die.


	5. Family

"Everyone! Turn your books to page three hundred seventy-one!"

It was the second week of school and Daniel was in his History of Magic class, utterly bored out of his mind. Compared to what his parents had said, it was better than when a certain Professor Binns taught – but he didn't believe it. Not only was the class boring, the teacher was as strict as Professor Haleburn, the new Transfiguration teacher.

In fact, if he had his way, he would have still been in bed. The only thing that stopped him was the severe tongue lashing that he would get from his parents, not to mention his grandfather. Suddenly, he was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Mr. Evans! Did you hear me or not?" Daniel gave a small sigh.

"Yes, Professor."

Professor Baume gave a curt nod and turned his attention to the rest of the class as Daniel's attention abruptly returned to his previous thoughts.

"This should be rather interesting for you all. It only happened a mere two generations before you. In fact, many people in this class have been affected by this." Daniel had raised his eyebrows when the professor proclaimed that they would actually be interested in something in his class. He snorted. As if! He flipped the book to the page asked by the teacher and his heart got stuck in his throat. He cleared his throat as he read what was before him.

It seemed as if Professor Baume wasn't kidding.

** _Chapter 47_ **

The Fall of Voldemort

and

The Death of the Saviour

_It was on a fateful night on the twelfth of October in the year two thousand two where the ultimate battle between the Dark and the Light came together in a precarious fight for the future of the wizarding world. As the original Leader of the Light, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (see page 354, Chapter 45 – The Battle of London), died in an equally bloody battle five months previous, the Boy-Who-Lived took his place at the head of the Light at a ripe, young age of twenty-two. He lead a large army that numbered up into the tens of thousands that ranged from professional aurors to volunteers, most of whom were veterans of the war. The Dark Lord Voldemort led a group of his followers whose numbers matched the Light._

It was going to be a battle that tested out the best strategies of either side and the strength of the men. Shortly after the first spell, the battle proved to be the bloodiest yet for the whole of the Second War. From eyewitness accounts on the sidelines from Healers, it was said to be "nothing short of a bloodbath" and that "nothing prepared anyone for anything like it" no matter how much experience one had.

Harry Potter, our saviour from the young age of one, was in the thick of it trying to gain the upper hand over Voldemort from the start. Forty minutes in only shed more blood and lost more lives from both sides of the war. At this time, sustaining multiple injuries from various curses, including the cruciatus, Potter was still going strong and urging his troops on, showing his strength and bravery in the face of great adversity.

Four hours into the battle yielded even more of the dead and injured, but it was also the start of the infamous confrontation between the Dark Lord and our Saviour.

It is not exactly known what went on throughout the duel, but all historians and eyewitnesses agreed that Harry Potter and disarmed Voldemort and left him on the ground with naught a breath to his name. Even so, the victory was not without consequences. Potter laid dying on the ground a mere seventeen feet from his nemesis.

Healer Hermione Granger-Weasley was the one who had the honour to confirm Voldemort's death and shortly after, she hurried to her lifelong friend, Harry Potter. Along with other Healers, she tried to ascertain what was wrong with Potter but she stopped at Potter's plea. It was said that he repeatedly said the word "please" when the surrounded mediwitches and wizards attempted to save him. At the desperate tone of voice, Granger-Weasley stopped to hear his wishes only to hear him trail off as his gaze focused on someone behind her, a famous Death Eater by the name of Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy is the son of the notorious Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and Dark Lord supporter, Narcissa Malfoy, of the House of Black. He is also reportedly Potter's main rival while attending school at the famous Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (see page 34, Chapter 2 – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff).

Amazingly, it was Potter's rival who knew what he had wanted all along. Hermione was told along with all of the spectators of the major event that Potter wanted to "go", as a way to convey that Potter wanted to die.

Moments after the shocking revelation, Potter had produced a small capsule from within his robes, reportedly a fatally poisonous muggle substance that contained cyanide salts, which he swallowed. Within minutes, the Boy-Who-Lived, now the Man-Who-Saved-Us-All, died from various severe complications from the central nervous, cardiovascular, and respiratory systems.

It was reported by eyewitnesses that before Potter had died, he said some words, but no one has figured out what he had said. It is still one of the great mysteries that still exists to this day.

Shortly after his death, it was revealed that he had a secret relationship with the Death Eater Draco Malfoy and left behind two boys, Matthew James Malfoy-Potter and Damion Lucian Malfoy-Potter. As of now, they have both married and the third Malfoy-Potter generation consists of four boys and one girl, all of whom currently attend school, though it is unknown where.

The twelfth of October is now celebrated throughout the wizarding world as Harry Potter day.

Following the war, the ministry…

Daniel took a deep breath to calm himself. He looked around to see that, for possibly the first time in a History of Magic class, everyone was completely immersed in their book. Brows were furrowed in concentration and eyes were narrowed thoughtfully as they perused the text diligently. He shook his head slightly in exasperation.

A book was never going to portray what happened as well as the people who were actually there, like his grandfather, for instance. After all, he was the Draco Malfoy mentioned in the text. A smile tugged at Daniel's mouth. It was only because his parents changed their name to Evans in honour of his great-grandmother and because they were tired of being hounded by the press, almost no one knew about his lineage.

In truth, Daniel didn't mind. In his opinion, it was about time that they didn't hide their heritage. It was certainly nothing to be ashamed of, especially when your grandfather had a day named after him for a worldwide holiday. His older brothers as well as his cousins were adamant about keeping their mouths shut about them being the famous Malfoy-Potters.

He almost snorted aloud at the thought of his classmates' looks when they knew the truth about the Evans'. It was going to be priceless. In fact…

"Professor Baume?" His professor looked up from his desk where he was grading papers.

"Yes?"

"Do I have to read this?"

At that, Daniel had the entire class' attention focused on him. After all, this was the most interesting thing they had to read! In truth, to them, Harry Potter was the ultimate hero and on the same level as Merlin, as well as the Founders. Baume raised as eyebrow.

"Yes." He replied simply. He started to turn his attention to the rest of the class but before he could, Daniel interrupted him.

"But why? I already know it!" Baume's face snapped back to his, this time shock was apparent on his face.

"You cannot possibly 'know it'." He scoffed after he got his bearings. "No one knows the entire story of Mr. Potter." At this point, Daniel sported a smirk.

"Really?"

"Yes." Professor Baume answered firmly.

"You're wrong. I know more."

"And how would you know anything?" Baume sneered a bit. "And who, in Merlin's name, would tell you anything that would actually know anything?"

"My grandfather." Baume looked satisfied at the lacking answer. He turned back to his papers but not before Daniel continued. "Draco Malfoy."

At that, Baume froze. He turned wide eyes to Daniel. The entire class had their jaws touching the floor. Daniel fancied seeing a fly flying into Geraldine Parkinson's mouth.

"Malfoy?" he practically squeaked. It was now Daniel's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy, lover of Harry Potter." The professor didn't dare say anything for even though the Death Eaters were disbanded long before, the head of the Malfoy-Potter house still kept some methods and ideas of Voldemort's followers. In short, he was a dangerous man to mess with. He had no idea what the saviour saw in the man. Before he made a fool of himself if Daniel Evans was just making fun, he studied the boy. He had straight, dark brown and pale, grey eyes. Now that he looked closely, he could see the resemblance to the Saviour and Draco Malfoy, as Harry Potter's pictures could be found anywhere and Draco Malfoy was the Minister of Magic. He was by no means a feeble, old man.

"Mis- Mister Ev- Mal- Malfoy-" Baume stopped and took a deep breath after his brief, embarrassing start. " Mr. Malfoy-Potter, you may leave if you wish." He cleared his throat and turned to the class. "Well? None of you know this stuff! Get to it!" The class snapped out of their daze and started whispering to one another about the new revelation. By the end of the day, the entire school would know.

He left the room with an evil smirk plastered across his face. He loved being a Slytherin and having such a powerful family – and now everyone knew as well. As he turned a corner, he met a sight that made him stop in his tracks.

His entire family was blocking the way. Even his grandfather was there! He gulped.

"Daniel Draconis Julian Malfoy-Potter!" His grandfather intoned in a low, dangerous voice. Daniel cringed. "Did you actually think that I wouldn't know when someone outed our name?" Daniel struggled to wet his dry throat.

"Grandfather! I, uh- I didn't think!"

"Of course you didn't! You never think! It's a wonder who you got it from! We didn't want anyone to know for a reason, Daniel! I swear to Merlin, I'll curse—" This time it was his father, Damion. Suddenly an unexpected answer cut through the tension and a father's enraged words.

"Harry." The entire family stared at the Head of the family.

"Excuse me?"

"He got it from Harry. I remember him doing things like that a lot… though I suppose he had different reasons." Draco Malfoy had a faraway look in his eyes, a small smile lingering on his lips from times long ago. A silence settled across the family.

"Well, that's brilliant! Our baby brother has a trait from the Great Harry Potter! Imagine that!" The silence was littered with chuckles and an amiable atmosphere replaced the earlier sadness. Daniel smacked his brother's arm hard enough to hear a loud smack, then he turned to his grandfather.

"So, Grandfather, does that mean that today will be name Daniel Malfoy-Potter Day?" The elder man surveyed his son before his lips twitched.

"I shall see what I can do."

Daniel's jaw dropped. "Seriously!"

There was a small pause where his grandfather gazed at a fixed point on the wall, then turned to him.

"No." The entire family erupted in laughter as the youngest scowled.

"Incredibly funny, Grandfather. Bloody hilarious."

The elder shook his head and turned around to leave.

"Daniel, since this is your fault, we all assign you as our family's personal press advisor."

"Humph." Daniel stalked away to the dungeons.

\----------

In a dark corridor that was a prime place to hide in, in order to have a perfect view of the festivities, a tall man sported a smile. He absolutely adored his family.


End file.
